Batteries Not Included: A Romantic Comedy

by Christa Lynn

  “Did you? Let me help you.”

  “No!” I scream and immediately regret it. “I’m sorry, but no … I got it,” I say as my head spins from bending over.

  “I can see that,” he says. “Sit down and let me get this,” he says as starts shoving my stuff back into my bag. I try and reach for the errant tampon, but his long fingers scoop it up and put it into the bag without blinking an eye. I’m silently mortified, but then I see those damn vibrating panties, and I stand up to grab them, but he again beats me to it. He slides one finger under the garment and holds them up on display and smiles, a flash of something crossing his face. “These yours?” he asks as I snatch them from his hand.

  “No, they’re Sarah’s.” I stuff them into the side pocket of the backpack.

  “Why may I ask, do you have Sarah’s …” he pauses, “vibrating panties in your bag?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “I just did.”

  “You really don’t want to know.” I stand, and he hands me the bag, all of my embarrassing stuff successfully stuffed back into it. Maybe Sarah’s right and I do need to get a new purse. I make a mental note to go Walmart later and grab something cheap. I drop my bag on the table, and the door closes behind me. I turn, and Nash is on my heels, in my house, without an invitation.

  I just stare at him, his eyes cooling me … and warming me at the same time, a feeling I’m not familiar with. This man has just walked into my house and is looking at me like he wants to eat me. “I’ve ordered pizza, if you’d like to stick around,” I say nonchalantly like I don’t care one way or the other.

  “Cool, I’d like that,” he says as he scans my body, from my eyes down to my pink painted toenails, and back up, lingering on my breasts just a little before meeting my eyes once again. Fuck, it’s been a long time since a man has looked at me that way. No, wait. No man has ever looked at me that way, not even my lame ass ex-boyfriend. Hell, there’s a reason he’s an ex … douche bag.

  I nod and turn away from him and open the fridge to grab two beers, the blast of cold air cooling my heated skin. I pop off the bottle cap and hand him his, and he takes a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Funny how I’ve never noticed a man’s throat as he swallows before. Or maybe it’s because he’s standing right in front of me, in my personal space. The smell of his cologne invades my nose as I try and move away from him, which I successfully do only to hear him growl.

  He growled? Seriously?

  I slowly kick my flip flops off and rest my feet on the coffee table, something my mother never let me do. He sets his beer down and sits down next to me and pulls my feet up into his lap. “How’s your foot doing?” he asks as he examines the scab left on the top of my foot.

  “It’s okay,” I say, his thumbs adding pressure to my heel and a low moan escapes my throat. I’ve decided, the best way into my panties is via a foot massage. But my panties will remain a no-entry zone as I pull my foot away from him. I can’t let him get to me, I’m happy where I am and don’t need a man trying to convince me otherwise. Why? I’m not sure, but I need to keep my guard up and not get too close. Though, I think it may already be too late.

  Chapter 7

  His fingers knead my feet, and his strong fingers feel so good. I find myself getting sleepy, but the doorbell rings, and I jump out of my skin. He chuckles and gets up, gently setting my foot down. I follow him, though, to grab my wallet to pay for the pizza. But before I can pull the bastard out of my grungy backpack, he’s in the kitchen holding the box. I fumble as I unzip my wallet and buckets of change fall and roll across the hardwood floor. “Shit,” I grumble, dropping my wallet on the floor and sitting down next to it, tears stinging the back of my eyelids. These last couple of days have got me down and out, and I think I’m ready to break.

  I drop my head between my knees and take a few deep breaths, slowly recovering from my almost nervous breakdown. “Relax, Shelby,” Nash says as he puts his arms under my armpits and pulls me up to a standing position, resting his hands on my shoulders for a second while I stare in his clear turquoise eyes, our interaction becoming a stare down. My body starts to warm and my mind calms, but I blink first and break the trance. “Sit,” he says as he pulls a chair out from under the table and then makes himself at home in my kitchen, grabbing plates and a roll of paper towels.

  He grabs two beers from the fridge and sets the long-neck bottles on the table before opening the pizza box and putting a large slice on my plate. The cheesy goodness makes my stomach growl a little louder than I’d like. “Eat that before drinking the beer.” He smirks, realizing my empty stomach and alcohol can cause problems.

  We both scarf down our first slice as if it’s the first meal we’ve had in days, quietly chewing, and I find myself starting at his Adam’s apple once again. Damn, why is that so sexy? I know he knows I’m staring at him, and I try to fight it, but there’s something about him that gets to me. I reach over into the box to grab another slice, and he does the same, our fingers touching in the box amongst the cheese and pepperoni. His fingers stay on mine, but I pluck a slice of pepperoni off and slip it between my lips, the grease slicking my lips like Vaseline. He watches me intently, and I’m suddenly empowered by what I’m doing until he wipes the grease from my lips with his fingers and puts his finger in his mouth.

  I realize quickly that he’s much sexier than I’ll ever be, so I watch his lips wrap around his finger as he sucks the grease off, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “So, what do you have planned for tomorrow?” he asks after we’ve finished eating.

  “What’s tomorrow?” I ask.

  “Sunday.”

  “Then nothing.” I laugh. “Sunday is the one day of the week I don’t do anything. I stay in my pajamas, watch movies, and binge eat junk food all day. Then Monday, I get back to the gym and work it all off.”

  “What kind of pajamas?” he asks, his eyes on me.

  “Wh-What? Just, jammies. Comfy pants, t-shirt, and slippers. It’s the one day of the week I won’t even shower,” I say, but that doesn’t faze him at all. He nods and leans back in his chair, kicking his right foot over his left knee. He looks so at home here, but I feel suddenly uncomfortable.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m doing what you’re doing.”

  “Ah, you have a jammie day too, huh? You’re not working?”

  “No, I plan on spending tomorrow right here, though I don’t plan on wearing pajamas.” He winks. I shrug it off and pretend I didn’t catch onto what he’s saying.

  “When do you go back to work?”

  “Monday, twenty-four hours on, forty-eight hours off.”

  “Ouch, that sucks.”

  “That’s just how the CFD works.”

  “CFD?” I ask, only figuring it out as the stupid question pours from my lips.

  He grins. “Charleston Fire Department.”

  “I know, I got it just as soon as I said it.” I blush.

  “It’s okay, you’re forgiven. And you’re adorable when you blush.”

  I snicker, again ignoring his comments, which are becoming harder and harder to ignore. “Are you from here?” I ask, changing the subject which I’m amazingly good at.

  “Actually, I’m from Walterboro, moved here when I joined the CFD.”

  “Why not enter the Walterboro Fire Department?”

  “Money’s better in the big city, and more excitement, like little Green Fiats hydroplaning into telephone poles.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me.” I laugh.

  “You were pretty lucky, you know that, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. But my car wasn’t that lucky.”

  He takes my hand in his. “Cars can be replaced, people can’t.”

  “I know,” I say, but I don’t pull my hands back. His thumb rubs my knuckles and chills run up my spine. The watercolors in his eyes darken as he scans my body. I see actual care in his eyes, not just desire … Though, that’s there too, in spades.

&n
bsp; “You want to stick around and watch a movie?” I ask, suddenly not wanting this evening to end.

  “I’d love to watch Netflix and Chill.”

  “Well, I don’t have Netflix, so it’ll be pay-per-view,” I retort, catching on to him.

  “Netflix … Pay-per-view, the same thing,” he says, dropping my hand and moving toward the TV and picking up the remote.

  “Do you mind if I go change?” I ask.

  “Not as long as you put on something sexy.”

  “Ha-ha.” I roll my eyes and head to my bedroom. “I’ll be right back. Find whatever you want to watch.”

  “You want an action film or something else?”

  “I’m not picky, whatever catches your gander,” I say as I close my door. I hear him mumble something like, “I’ll catch your gander,” or something like that, but I ignore it and make myself believe that I heard him wrong. I feel a little grungy, so I take a quick shower and throw on some pajama shorts and a tank top. I remove my contacts and put on my glasses as well as toss my wet hair into a messy bun.

  As I come around the corner, I see Nash flopped on the sofa with his beer in his hand. His bare feet on my coffee table and he looks so relaxed … and hot. “Good Lord, give me strength—” Before I can complete my little internal prayer, his eyes catch mine and he sits up. His eyes travel down my body, lingering a bit longer than what’s comfortable on my nipples, which are poking through the thin material of my tank top. I realize then I should have put a bra on, but it’s too late now.

  I try to ignore his perusing, but he travels down, and his eyes take in my legs. Now, that’s one part of my body I don’t mind showing off. I run—a lot—so my legs are in decent shape. I’d like to get rid of the small muffin top I have, but I let that slide. He stops on my toes, and I wiggle them. I don’t mean to, it just happens. He grins as he takes in the pink polish and moves back up my body, sending warmth through me as he does so. I’ve never had a man look at me that way before, not even the ex-douche.

  I shake it off and pretend I don’t notice, though he smirks as he pats the seat next to him. “I chose American Pie, figured we could both use a good laugh tonight.”

  “It’s perfect,” I say as I sit down next to him, his musky scent cocooning me. He lifts his arm over the back of the sofa in a silent invitation to sit extra close, but I stay on my cushion of the couch, a comfortable distance between us. I move to stand up to go get a beer, and he tugs my tank down, pulling me back to the sofa, and gets up.

  “I’ll get it, you sit back and relax.” I watch his tight ass move in his jeans as he walks to my kitchen, but he turns around and smirks at me as if he knew I was watching him. He knows what he does to me, but he also knows I’m fighting it. I lean my head back on the sofa and close my eyes, but again those eyes appear. What the fuck is wrong with me? I was happy in my little bubble, and now he’s come along and popped it.

  He sits back down and hands me my beer and then pulls my feet up onto his lap again, those nimble fingers massaging and kneading, but being careful not to hit the scab that stretches across the top of my foot.

  Suddenly, he lifts my foot and presses his soft lips onto the cut and a low moan escapes my throat. He’s gentle and tender, and my skin comes alive. I close my eyes and enjoy the massage until something wet hits my big toe. My eyes snap open, and Nash has sucked my big toe into his mouth, his tongue running seductively over it, and although I should be grossed out, I’m intensely turned on. Who would have thought sucking on a toe would be an erotic sensation?

  His tongue drags along the insole of my foot before he swallows my big toe once again, my body squirming under his touch. The heat in his eyes is too much for me to handle, so I close my eyes and lay my head back, reveling in the heat and dampness of his mouth as I imagine what that tongue could do to other parts of my body. But suddenly, cold air envelopes my wet toe, and I open my eyes. He’s staring at me, and I watch his tongue slip out and swipe across his bottom lip in a real sign of hunger. I try and pull my foot back, but he presses it against his cock, his very hard cock.

  I know now I’ve gotten in too deep, and I sit up, Nash reluctantly releasing my foot. He knows he’s got me all twisted up inside, but he doesn’t move, he just watches me. My now damp panties are stuck to my pussy, and I discretely try and tug them back, but his eyes catch my hand as I dig out my wet underwear. I know I look like an idiot, my ass raised up over the sofa cushion and my fingers plucking the lace out of my crevice. “Can I help you with that?” he asks softly as he leans forward. My face flushes to a dark shade of red as I sit back.

  I don’t answer his question, but know I need to get up and go do something … anything else but this. I grab our empty beer bottles and take them to the kitchen and toss them in the trash before splashing cold water on my face. Before I can even open my eyes, I feel him behind me. He leans forward and cages me to the counter as I feel his mouth skirt across my neck. “You may fight this, but it will happen,” he whispers in my ear as my body shivers.

  The awkward silence is broken when Nash’s cell phone rings out. He presses his lips to my ear as his warmth leaves me. He scans the message and tucks it into his pocket. “I have to go, Seth called out as his wife is in labor, so I have to take his shift, which means I won’t be able to do anything tomorrow.” He sighs, though I’m silently glad about that. I don’t think I would be able to keep my soaked panties on much longer with this man around.

  “Oh,” I say. “All right, well—” He cuts me off as his hands cup my face, his eyes searching mine for affirmation. I guess he sees what he’s looking for and gently presses his lips to mine in a sweet, but steamy kiss. He pulls back and hands me his phone.

  “Digits,” he says.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I need your number.”

  “Oh, um …” I say as I take his iPhone in his hand. I dial my phone number because my hands are shaking too much to try and enter it into his contacts. The muted ringtone of my cell from my backpack crushes the electricity in the air. He smirks and then kisses me again.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he says, his fingers tugging on my hair. “Go take off those uncomfortable panties, and keep your phone close,” he says as he pulls away. I follow him to the door as he turns the knob. “I mean it … keep your phone close.” He winks and leaves, the clicking sound of the door ending the sexual tension that filled the room.

  I stare at the closed door, my head spinning. “What the fuck just happened?” I ask myself, unsure if my head is spinning because of the concussion or Nash. I shake my head and lock the door, dragging the chain onto the lock and flipping the deadbolt before glancing at the clock and realizing it’s ten P.M., which is way past my bedtime even on the weekend.

  I turn off the lamp and the kitchen light and head up down the hallway to my room when I hear my phone ding. I figure it’s probably Sarah checking on me, so I ignore it as I grab a clean pair of panties and pull the covers down on the bed. Just as I crawl in, my phone dings again. “Damn it, Sarah,” I groan as I get back out of bed and pad down the hall back to the living room.

  I dig in and find my phone and look at the screen, realizing it’s not Sarah.

  “I thought I told you to keep your phone close.”

  “Nash?”

  “Yeah, put me in your contacts.”

  I do as he says, the name “Sexy Fireman” popping onto my screen as the three little jumping dots spring to life.

  “Are you in bed?”

  “I was until my phone dinged.”

  “Go back to bed.”

  Geez, I hope he doesn’t do this all night, I may have to turn the damn thing off. I’m tired, cranky and a little bit horny, but I’ll deal with that in the morning. Right now, I just want to snuggle into bed and go to sleep. I brush my teeth and wash my face, tug off my shorts, and climb back into bed and turn the lamp off, fluffing my pillow under my head. But before I can even close my eyes, my phone dings again. “Damn it!” I bark,
tossing the covers back off, rubbing my eyes as I stumble back down the hallway. I glance at the screen and see it’s Nash … again. “Ugh, what the fuck do you want?” I groan as I swipe the screen.

  “What are you wearing?” I stare at the phone with my eyes wide open and rolling back into my head. Who asks that question? Apparently, Nash does. I drop my hand and walk back to bed, but this time taking my phone with me. Damned if I want to keep getting up and down on a mission to locate the thing.

  “Shouldn’t you be out fighting fires or saving damsels in distress?” I thumb type out my response and set the phone on the bedside table, the one that houses my toys. My finger absently drags across the drawer handle, but I shake that off and snuggle back into bed.

  Ding!

  Oh, my God, really? I roll to my side and swipe the screen, the brightness causing my eyes to squint.

  “There’s only one fire I want to put out.”

  I smirk at the screen and feel a small smile coming on. “Oh, you want to play, do you?” I say out loud to no one. “Well, two can play this game, Mister. I hope you don’t get a call because your entire station will see you’ve got a raging boner.”

  “Oh, really? And what fire would that be?” I close my eyes, giggling inside. I know this guy isn’t going to try and sext me. What are we, sixteen? But I decide to humor him, for a little while anyway.

  “Did I tell you earlier that you’re beautiful?”

  Ah, he’s going to be a hard hitter, I see. “I don’t recall hearing that, no.”

  “And that your big toe tastes amazing?” My body tingles at that comment.

  “So, you have a craving for feet?” I snicker.

  “Only yours,” he types back. “I bet the rest of you tastes amazing as well.”

  Holy shit, who is this guy? “I guess it depends on the time of day,” I type back.

  “Any time of any day, Shelby.” My mind freezes on that comment. “Did you change your panties?”

  “I did not.”